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Wednesday, May 26, 2010

Lock me up in that little wooden houseSo that my soul can sink into the floorboardsAnd watch over you when I’m not thereFind me between matrreses and mahoganySparking lights fall and the hollow of the guitar soundA resounding humLike my head on your chest where gravity pulls me futher into the darkWear my grooves thin like the records you play over and overI don’t mindSpinning around and round on turntables like emeralds in my mindTaking down everything around us so the scales don’t tipIt seems too right so everything else must look wrong to compensate